


Stirring Up Trouble

by ghermez



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:20:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25246774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghermez/pseuds/ghermez
Summary: “Whoa. You’re kind of big, huh?”“Yeah.”“Makes me wonder if you’re as heavy as you look. Hm.” Iwaizumi’s eyes shined with a challenge.The air in the room shifted and transformed. They were leaning into one another, a gravitational pull neither could fight. Wakatoshi heard himself say, “I am.”“Prove it,” Iwaizumi said, his breath a little boozy but there was a brightness in his eyes that betrayed just how sober he was.iwaizumi gets drunk. ushijima has a big dick. you get it.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 22
Kudos: 201





	Stirring Up Trouble

Neither of them really knew what they were doing. They were fumbling in the dark. Literally. Until Wakatoshi found the light. Iwaizumi kept giggling. It was a startling sound—at first, then it turned Wakatoshi’s insides to mush, and there was nothing he could do besides listen. 

Iwaizumi shouldn’t have been the last person Wakatoshi expected to see at Oikawa’s birthday party, not when it was a known fact that the two came as a prepackaged deal. Two peas in a pod. Yet the sight of him, sitting across the table, slamming back a jager bomb like it was nothing, had unfurled something inside Wakatoshi. He didn’t know why, but he watched Iwaizumi the whole night. He’d witnessed the way Iwaizumi listed a little sideways when the party got up to change locations. It was instinct and gravity that had drawn him to Iwaizumi, declaring he’ll take care of him. 

Tendou had given him a knowing _all right_ that Wakatoshi pointedly ignored.

Iwaizumi had looked at him, eyes fiery, and said, “I know a way you can take care of me,” his voice low and purring. There was very little Wakatoshi could do but follow.

If someone told him he would be in some seedy love hotel, dragging a tipsy Iwaizumi to the tiny shower to sober him up, fumbling with his zipper and fending off his grabby hands, Wakatoshi might have believed that someone was going through an out-of-body experience. Yet, in his current predicament, he couldn’t help but go through the motions. Once Iwaizumi was down to his fetching briefs, Wakatoshi turned on the water. Iwaizumi winced at first, then leaned back out of its trajectory, giving Wakatoshi proper _come hither_ eyes. 

The tub was big enough for two, and Iwaizumi inclined in it like he was a king and it was his throne while Wakatoshi felt his face burn as he imagined why that would be necessary in a motel. 

Iwaizumi slapped his thigh. “Come here.” He left Iwaizumi in there, slightly blubbering about _big thighs, big shoulders, big dic—_

His phone was ringing, and it was none other than Tendou

“Hah!!! So, did he get you naked yet?”

“He’s in the shower,” he answered, then winced when Tendou let out a sharp squeal. 

“Good luck!” was all Tendou said, then hung up. Wakatoshi stared at his phone, then put it down. He found a robe in the closet by the bathroom and some towels. He laid them out for Iwaizumi. When fifteen minutes passed by, he began to worry the man had drowned himself. So, he gingerly opened the door and found Iwaizumi fumbling with the shower head.

“What are you doing?” His voice was muffled by the sound of the water. 

“I’m prepping.”

They stared at one another. He was kind of scared to ask. 

“You know, my ass—”

He shut the door.

Another fifteen minutes later, Iwaizumi came out, dressed in nothing but a flimsy towel around his waist. Wakatoshi was certain there existed bigger towels, but the sight of Iwaizumi’s glistening skin was a marvel at which he couldn't stop staring. He was still staring as Iwaizumi closed in on him, slotting his knees around Wakatoshi’s thighs. A lovely prison. The towel flapped open, and he closed his eyes instinctively. He didn’t think he could survive seeing Iwaizumi naked—again.

He sighed when large palms rested on his shoulders. He opened his eyes and found Iwaizumi sizing him up. “Whoa. You’re kind of big, huh?”

He mumbled, “Yeah.”

“Makes me wonder if you’re as heavy as you look. Hm.” Iwaizumi’s eyes shined with a challenge.

The air in the room shifted and transformed. They were leaning into one another, a gravitational pull neither could fight. Wakatoshi heard himself say, “I am.”

“Prove it,” Iwaizumi said, his breath a little boozy but there was a brightness in his eyes that betrayed just how sober he was.

He slid a hand across the smooth expanse of Iwaizumi’s thigh, looking closely at how Iwaizumi shuddered, eyes fluttering close, his mouth ajar in a soft _unh._ His skin was warmed from the shower, and Wakatoshi’s hands easily found the crook of his thighs, the juncture where they met his hips. He pressed his fingers there, spreading Iwaizumi on top of him. Sturdy arms wrapped around his neck, and he welcomed the slip and slide of Iwaizumi’s chest against him. They hadn’t even kissed, yet he felt like they’d done this before, in a former life. There was familiarity in the way Iwaizumi unfolded before his very eyes, droplets of water sliding down the side of his neck, disappearing between his pecs, drying Wakatoshi’s mouth. 

They held onto each other—Wakatoshi’s hands around Iwaizumi’s hips, Iwaizumi’s hands cupping Wakatoshi’s jaw, silently observing what either of them might do first.

There was no urgency or hesitance. There was simply them.

It was so easy to kiss Iwaizumi, though he teased a little, all charm and zero harm, making Wakatoshi’s blood boil in his veins. They kissed like they had all the time in the world, tongues languid and messy, their hands losing track of destination and lingering on junctures, elbows, knees. He thumbed at a scar on Iwaizumi’s calf and scooting back over the mattress, the sound of his pants meeting the sheets so loud, but not louder than the hiss Iwaizumi let out when Wakatoshi feathered a touch up and down the length of his strong legs. Iwaizumi, framed by the bright overhead lights, was etched in brilliance and holy fire, and Wakatoshi let himself finally tug that towel off and kiss him some more. 

They rose for air, and Wakatoshi swore he could get hooked on the sight of Iwaizumi like this. All kissed-out. Like he was born to be debauched. Until he leaned back, hands resting against Wakatoshi’s thighs, his nakedness on display, without a hint of shame or mortification, and said, “That's all you got?”

Iwaizumi huffed when Wakatoshi turned them around, grinding their hips together—the fabric of his pants creating a frantic friction against Iwaizumi’s bare skin. Iwaizumi was reaching for Wakatoshi’s zipper now, slowing down enough to ask, through lowered lashes, “You want this,” the question mark lingered between them.

There was no better answer than action, so Wakatoshi rocked his hips closer, letting his mouth find that easy smile as Iwaizumi eagerly undressed him.

He peeled off his Polo T-shirt and found Iwaizumi staring at him, mouth gaping, pupils blown out. There was truth in the way Iwaizumi looked at him. He tilted Iwaizumi’s face to him and kissed him again, and again, and again, until the taste in his mouth was simply _Iwaizumi._

From there, their bodies took over. Searching hands. Quiet murmurs of _yes, there. Slow down_ , his heart pounded in his chest, but Wakatoshi was frantic to hear Iwaizumi say his name. Not the nickname he’d grown up hearing. 

They took advantage of the stocked first drawer. As Wakatoshi cracked open a new bottle of lube, Iwaizumi curiously opened the second then blanched at the sight of the creative sex toys there. He held up a dildo, still in its packaging, that looked around the same thickness as Wakatoshi’s forearm. 

“This is…”

He took it from Iwaizumi, inspected it, then put it back. “I would prefer not to compete with a toy.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes grew hooded, then he winced when Wakatoshi’s fingers slithered between his cheeks. “It’s cold,” he whispered when Wakatoshi kissed an apology onto his hip. He moaned as Wakatoshi took his cock in his mouth, his hands demanding as they gripped and tugged at Wakatoshi’s hair. He was sure he'd never, ever, want another pair of hands in his hair after Iwaizumi Hajime.

They went at it like the pair of inexperienced men they were, their hold on one another tight but they were eager to learn and showed it. Iwaizumi was visibly impressed with Wakatoshi’s girth and made it clear with every huffed _god, you’re big,_ which only managed to snip at Wakatoshi’s restraint. He was discovering that he really liked holding Iwaizumi’s hands as he bottomed out, the slickness of their sweat together, the way Iwaizumi’s eyebrows frowned in concentration like he was figuring out whether he liked it or not, and the tiny voice in which Iwaizumi said, “You can move now.”

They did that together, careful and slow, and when the push and shove got easier, Iwaizumi, competitive, slid his hands behind Wakatoshi’s back and urged him. _Go faster_ , he was saying, as if he wasn't trembling with every thrust. 

He followed through, letting Iwaizumi take his pleasure, listening carefully to every sound—he knew how easily he could hurt Iwaizumi. He was a bit too strong. 

Yet there was a limit to how much he could withstand the way Iwaizumi squirmed and sweetly murmured how _good_ it felt. His body grew a little desperate, seeking out its own climax, but he wasn’t selfish. He took hold of Iwaizumi’s cock, smiling when Iwaizumi spurted almost immediately, then followed him promptly. They kissed, messy and breathless, the happy surprise of how well their bodies worked together through the entire ordeal evident in Iwaizumi’s crinkled smile and appearance of Wakatoshi’s barely-there dimple. They lingered in bed, and Wakatoshi let his heart acquaint itself with these new emotions. Iwaizumi put a finger against his cheek, turned it towards his mouth, and blew a huff of a breath.

“You’re not heavy. Not one bit. I could do this all night,” he said, and Wakatoshi let himself read between the lines. 

Clean up was fairly quick. He disposed of the condom as Iwaizumi dragged himself to the shower. He was definitely sober now. There was a large red spot in the crook of his neck that Wakatoshi suspected was his own doing. He stared at it until Iwaizumi gave him a look, a nudge, a nod of his head.

Iwaizumi said, “Want to join me?”

His feet moved before he knew it. 

The second time around, they didn’t even take the time to strip. They were pressed close in the tiny bathroom cubicle of the bar into which Tendou had dragged them. A song played overhead, tinny and foreign. Wakatoshi registered some bits and pieces of the lyrics, comprehension of learning English giving him a vague idea of what the singer was singing about. Except Wakatoshi had better things to listen to than the song. Primarily, Iwaizumi’s voice dipped low into a growl when Wakatoshi pressed him against one of the four walls around them. 

“Be quiet,” he said, letting his lips linger over Iwaizumi’s ear. There was far too much satisfaction in pinning Iwaizumi’s strong body with his, covering it from head to toe. Their legs slotted together, his heat drawn to Iwaizumi’s.

Iwaizumi had his pants down by his knees, and Wakatoshi thrusted between his thighs. It was messy and fast, as was the nature for bathroom trysts. 

Sweat slicked, Iwaizumi’s hair looked a mess. Wakatoshi pressed his forehead in the center of Iwaizumi’s back and counted to a hundred in German so he wouldn’t come too fast. 

The door to the Men’s Room opened, and a loud, “Wakatoshi! Are you pooping?” managed to break their concentration. Iwaizumi was the first to snort, when the door slammed close, biting on his lips to keep the sound in, but it was too much. Interrupted, they parted. Wakatoshi did his best to fix Iwaizumi’s hair—it had been his fault it got messed up, to begin with, but it was hopeless. They were both a mess. Iwaizumi’s cheeks were flushed so prettily, and he pressed his palm against it to feel how warm it was. And Iwaizumi turned his face towards Wakatoshi’s palm, kissing his wrist where his pulse beat wildly.

“We should probably quit doing this,” Iwaizumi said, washing his hands and not looking at him in the mirror.

Wakatoshi didn’t know how to reply, but he knew he hated that possibility. They barely _did_ anything this time around. Instead of answering, he walked to the sinks, slotting himself against Iwaizumi. He wasn’t unaware of how big he looked in certain angles, matter of fact, he used it now. He wanted Iwaizumi to look at him when he said that. When he said they should _stop_ whatever they were doing. 

Yet when Iwaizumi did look up, Wakatoshi wasn’t prepared for the look of _hurt_ in those dark eyes. He hesitated, unsure if he could touch Iwaizumi when they were both clearly sober and aware that nothing that transpired between them was necessary. 

“What’s the matter?” he asked. Instinctively, he placed both hands on Iwaizumi’s waist, liking how solid Iwaizumi felt under his touch, how he didn’t hide his shiver.

“Were you not in there? We almost got caught,” Iwaizumi mumbled, voice low. He turned off the faucet.

“I don’t think Tendou cares about what we were doing. He probably knows, too.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes were wide when he looked up at Wakatoshi. “Your best friend knows we were—” he stopped. It was hardly in character. As far as he’d seen from Iwaizumi, he was confident Wakatoshi wanted him. The flare of insecurity didn’t suit him.

“He's known since the last time.” It explained why Wakatoshi got a text demanding he show up for drinks in the middle of the week when he could be practicing, or better, getting some sleep. It’d been growing hard to get any sort of rest. He wondered if it was due to the lack of a warm body splayed against his back. 

“And you’re cool about that? I thought you—” Iwaizumi was a mess of unfinished sentences, and tried as he could, Wakatoshi couldn’t decipher him. So, he went with what his body told him to do. He tilted Iwaizumi’s chin higher and kissed him. It wasn’t difficult, but required Iwaizumi to arch into him, setting his hands on the sink and closing his eyes. This was a better look on him. They lost themselves in the give and take, kiss and nip and bite, tongues clashing and soothing, until Iwaizumi had Wakatoshi’s shirt fisted in both hands, his thighs spread to accommodate Wakatoshi’s girth. He knew it was crude of him, but he picked up Iwaizumi and pressed him to the wall next to the sinks anyway, all the while slipping his tongue taking advantage of the soft moan escaping Iwaizumi’s lips.

He tried to memorize every touch to his brain. This was how Iwaizumi looked like when he was being kissed—there was no better sight. 

“Is it fun?” Iwaizumi asked. His voice was low, hands pulling Wakatoshi. He didn’t let him get very far though, just enough so he could glare. 

“What do you mean?”

“This? Stealing moments in bathrooms and cheap motels?”

“Do you want to go out, instead?” he asked, nosing at Iwaizumi’s jaw. 

He meant it. He would take Iwaizumi anywhere he liked. Wakatoshi himself had a knack for the zoo. He liked learning about birds specifically.

He thumbed Iwaizumi’s earlobe, his mouth quivering into a half-smile when the touch had Iwaizumi shuddering. “What do you mean?” Iwaizumi said, quite grumpily. It was so fetching to see him turn from languid heat to fiery inquisition. 

“Let’s date, you and I.” He couldn’t make it any clearer but didn’t mind spelling it out for Iwaizumi.

But rather than whatever normal response someone might have, Iwaizumi pushed him away. “Is this funny to you? Watching me chase after you, seeking out invitations to be around you. To try and catch a glimpse. I know I’m pathetic.”

Despite all reason, Wakatoshi was flattered. He’d not imagined, not in a million years, that the ace that used to sail through the air, buoyed by his team’s trust and indisputable belief, would willingly go after him. He’d known he was somewhat everyone’s contender, before and now, but something in Iwaizumi’s eyes didn’t feel as simple as that. This wasn’t rivalry speaking. 

“You’re the last person I’d call pathetic.” Because even at a moment where Iwaizumi considered himself as such, Wakatoshi saw the brilliance barely contained in his eyes, the playful way he took what he wanted. This was the man who grabbed his arm and wondered about whether he could take him. Then proved that he could. Over and over. Until the sun kissed their cheeks and woke them from a blissfully deep sleep. 

Wakatoshi kissed him, sure and long, and Iwaizumi melted in his hold, wrapping his arms around Wakatoshi’s neck and sinking into the kiss, letting it smoothen over the crinkle between them.

He didn’t know exactly when he’d looked at Iwaizumi and felt like he’d found a purpose, but as he kissed his forehead, pressing a quiet promise in the crease between Iwaizumi’s eyebrows, Wakatoshi felt at peace with it. Like this was a feeling he’d been waiting for. 

**Author's Note:**

> /shrugs
> 
> i really liked the idea of a very needy iwaizumi who has a huge crush on wakatoshi, and an intrigued wakatoshi. this is a safe space for iwaizumi stans!!! we're allowed to be horny for him!!!! 
> 
> anyway, this took up way too much of my brain cells !! comments appreciated <3
> 
> i'm on twitter as [@kuroosauce](https://twitter.com/kuroosauce)


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